


Before your coffee gets cold.

by orphan_account



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I've never really written anything like this before,It's a little angsty but it ends happy.It's not really written like a regular fic or story it's got poetry vibes??
Relationships: Theo - Relationship, Theodore Decker & Boris Pavlikovsky
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was whipped out in the span of like.. an hour at 4am so I'm really sorry if it's completely wacky and beyond understanding.

His hands are creeping lower,  
And I think I might hit him.

I don't want to.  
But I'm scared and I can't figure out how to tell him,  
So I think it's might hit him.  
Just so he knows.

He's kissing me, and I taste blood.  
Our last kiss hurt,  
Chapped lips and rough movement.  
It was a goodbye kiss.

Warm hands remind me I'm alive. 

He's under my shirt,  
In my bed,  
In the air I breathe.  
I'm surrounded and I can't do anything about it.

There's vodka on the floor and a tinny taste in my mouth.

I can feel him on my Skin,  
Purple marks sucked and bitten into me.  
'fuck you'  
I'm not sure who this thought is for.

He's made coffee,  
And he smiles everytime he looks at me.  
It hurts.  
'thank you'

'you dont have to'

Its dark and rain beats heavily on the window.

We're sitting on the couch and his hand is drifting up my thigh.  
I'm trying to pretend it's not.  
I'm trying to ignore how much I like it.

I'm fucked.  
Sick.  
Disgusting.

He doesn't seem to care.

I'm wearing thick sweaters, scarves and jackets.  
Hoping it's cold enough to excuse my behavior.  
Hoping no one will ask why,  
He still shows,  
Evidence of our sins written across me.

I feel like glass,  
Like I'm see through and fragile.  
I think he's the only one gentle enough for me,  
He's the only one who won't break me.

I'm scared to tell him the things I think.  
Scared that his gentleness will disappear and instead be replaced with harsh laughter and rough fists.

I keep my thoughts to myself.  
Three words, 

They make me dizzy.

I crush up pills and chase them with vodka.  
My reflection swirls and the dangerous thoughts slow,  
Stop,  
Slip away completely.

I should write a note.  
I could put my thoughts down.

If I don't do it soon, I won't have enough pills to finish the job.

The desk chair is hard.

There's ink on my hands.

I stack the letters gently, I wrote some to other people too, 

Apologizing for the troubles I've caused.  
The things I've said.  
Trying to take back the hurt.

His is longest.  
I told him I remembered,  
Spilled drink,  
Soiled clothes,  
The motions of our time together.  
I asked him to be happy.  
To know that even if I denied it, I still thought about it.  
Us.

The marks on my skin have disappeared,  
All signs of him erased.

I almost called.  
I didn't want you to hear me though.

Im taking on after another and the world is faded already.

Cold,  
Cold and wet and I'm being drug somewhere.

Not somewhere,  
Back and forth.

Snow is in my shoes.

You're holding me up.

I would like to say hi, my mouth doesn't move.  
I still feel hazy,  
Heavy.

We're in the hotel again, 

I feel horrible.

You've read the letter. 

It was open on the desk,  
I wish you hadn't.

Because know you've seen me,  
Me and my thoughts,  
My wants,  
Those three dangerous words.  
I can see you looking at me.  
I can see that you want to talk.  
But you're scared of breaking me.

Am I too fragile now?  
Even for you?

We're in a cafe and my coffee has gone cold,  
I feel sick,

I know if I open my mouth I'll cry,  
I'll talk,  
And I won't be able to stop.

So I keep my mouth shut.

The air is heavy around us, and I'm waiting for your voice to break this unbearable silence.

You're aching to ask,  
Why did I do it?  
Why didn't I tell you?  
How long have you wanted to say those things?

Instead you stir your coffee,  
Newspaper in your lap.

It's been too long.

"...you could have told me. That you didn't want to live. That you felt that bad."  
You're hurt,  
It's my fault.

I look away,  
In trying not to cry in front of you.  
Again.

"I would've helped you."

You can't.  
You can't help me when I'm the only problem


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is from boris' pov

You won't look at me.  
You look guilty,  
Like you're still sorry for even breathing.

I read your letter,   
I remember too,   
I wanted to tell you the same,  
I think it would break you though.

You haven't talked to me,   
Not really,  
I don't blame you, of course, but I miss you.

You haven't really slept, not since that day.

I think I might try,   
Just to talk,  
To say something.

"Eat, you should."

You push the plate away

And I push my worry away.  
I wish you would smile.

I hold out a paper,  
"your bird, they find it. And it is safe."

You look at me,   
You're hopeful but disbelieving.  
I wonder what I can do to make you trust me,   
Make you trust me with everything.  
So you don't have to write a letter like that ever again.

"they find other paintings, stolen paintings and also, a Rembrandt."

I've had your coffee replaced with a fresh cup.  
You still haven't touched it.

"now, drink more coffee." 

You do.  
Your hands are shaking.

"listen to me, is important." 

You look at me.  
And I'm so glad you do.

"you talk about bad things you have done."  
You write about them. You cry over them. I wish I could save you from them.  
This is my attempt.  
"and blame yourself."  
It was not your fault.  
It was the worlds.  
You were too small,   
And it was too wicked.  
"you wish... Wish you were dead."  
Laying in the street waiting for cars, too many pills and too much alcohol.  
"so we have done bad things."  
I hope you catch the 'we'  
"but maybe sometimes, good can come from bad."

Your crying.  
You're trying not to,   
But you are,   
And it's making you mad.  
I stop myself from drying your tears.  
I don't want to scare you.

"if you hadn't... If I hadn't.. maybe none of these paintings would be found."  
I would do this all again in a second,   
Just to know you.  
"maybe is... Like huge fucking weather system rolling over and we just get blown,  
And maybe is fate or...  
Why give name?"  
We've never really had a name anyway.  
Not for you and me,  
What we are.  
"just...  
Life. Eh?"

You're nodding and a smile is finally on your face.  
It's been too long since you've smiled.  
I promise I will make you smile more.

"your bird is safely back in the world, happy Christmas, Potter."

You've been smiling more.  
You're eating breakfast with me, and drinking coffee before it gets cold.

Late last night, stood in the doorway.  
You looked scared again.  
It made me scared for a minute.

"The letter.." you said.   
You didn't look at me though.  
"Did you read it?"

"Yes."   
I didn't want to say anything to hurt you, or scare you, or make you angry.  
"I did." 

You nod. Like you wish that wasn't the answer you got but an answer you were prepared for.

I'm waiting for you to continue but your stuck.  
Like your mouth is sewn shut.  
So I think it's my turn again.

"..I love you too." 

You melt,  
Shoulders sinking and breathing out before nodding.  
You look at me,  
"I love you. I meant it." 

It's something that was unsaid for too long, we both knew it but we didn't want to say it.  
Scared we would break each other.  
I think it'll fix us now though.  
So I'll say it to you everyday.

"I love you."


End file.
